


Tento

by fullofimber



Category: citrus - サブロウタ | citrus - Saburouta
Genre: Drabble, F/F, Fluff, Maybe - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-24
Updated: 2019-10-24
Packaged: 2021-01-02 11:43:41
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21161114
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fullofimber/pseuds/fullofimber





	Tento

She woke with her hand behind her head, fingers loosely tangled in the hair that spilled, sideways, across the pillow. Yuzu invariably woke this way, eyes opening to the thick beams of light on the ceiling, trying to close again and failing, heavy, still, and so hard to keep open.

She didn’t really like lying in bed, though she would often sleep past noon. It felt unnatural to stay so deliberately still, to be so awake and yet not to talk, or move. When, whether to light or an alarm, her eyes finally yielded and opened, the impulse to move sprang to immediate life beneath her skin.

Even so, mornings like this were special. They were special enough to overturn an impulse, and even special enough to make her still.

Yuzu felt the few unstill parts of her moving, insistent and gentle, her heart’s faint thump in the middle of her chest, her breath rising and falling low in her stomach. Her girlfriend lay warm over her entire left side, almost entirely silent, buried deep. Even so, as Yuzu felt Mei’s stomach alternately hollow and fill against her hip, her breath pushing against Yuzu’s collar, she wondered if Mei was at her most authentic. Letting out another long breath, she closed her eyes again, willing herself to stay still.

Mei woke to alarm. Not to _an _alarm – though it was not unheard of for her to sleep through them – but to an immediate jolt of panic. Her eyes jerked open and her fist closed in the duvet. Some inner spot screamed terror at her, inchoate and senseless, but, to her, immediately comprehensible.

As she lay with her eyes open, her fingers holding firm to the bedclothes, there was one thing that gave her pause. There was a movement beneath her, steady, slow, and rhythmic. Over a second or so, Yuzu’s stomach would fall, pause, and fill again.

In steps, it became clear to her. She and Yuzu only cuddled on weekends. Yesterday had been Friday. Today was Saturday. There was nothing to be late for.

At this, she loosened her shoulders, her neck, finally her hand again. She came to rest, entirely, against Yuzu, inhaling deeply. The all-too-familiar mix of detergent, shampoo, perfume, the messy grab-bag of sensation, always and unfailingly sweet to her, made her heart hurt. For a good few seconds she laid with the twinge in her throat, unsure quite what to do with it. When she got this feeling, there was always the risk of her crying, of turning red and ugly, of dissolving into something she didn’t understand.

Now, though, was one of the best times to take that risk. She relaxed into the pain, into the bone-deep warmth of the embrace, and marvelled that Yuzu was so solid, even as she slept. In the silence she kept her expression smooth. This was an aspect of her personality that weighed heavy against her. She struggled to seek out contact from her girlfriend, and, even in private, she could barely wrap an arm around Yuzu, let alone plant a silent kiss on her cheek or her forehead.

She had love for Yuzu, as deep as their embrace and twice as warm. It burgeoned heavy in her movements; it held close to her insides. Denying it hollowed her out, but she couldn’t bear to have it seen, either.

It was so much easier when Yuzu was asleep. Then, she only had to close her own eyes. She shifted from her side and onto her stomach, reaching upward with her right hand. As gently as she could, she reached into the tangle of her girlfriend’s hand and hair, and, hand behind her head, she tried her best to sleep again.


End file.
